Moonshine Murder [Hawkman Bk 14] (16 page)

He didn't worry about making a disturbance as he dashed through the bushes toward the four-wheeler. Getting his boots wrapped in a vine sent him sprawling to the ground. Yanking at the creepers, he finally unwrapped his feet and checked his pockets for the items he'd brought. He listened for a few moments to make sure no one was trailing him, then raised his body off the ground. He used the flashlight to help guide him through the remaining tangle of brush, and soon arrived at the four-wheeler. Climbing aboard, he turned the ignition, put it in gear, flipped on the lights, and headed home.

Jennifer jumped up from her chair when he walked in the door and gasped. “What happened to your face?"

"Nothing,” he said, removing his gloves, then touching his cheek to find it crusted in blood. “I must have scratched it when I fell."

She handed him a hand mirror. “You better let me clean you up, and you can tell me what happened"

Leaving the room, she returned with cotton and hydrogen peroxide.

"Looks rather ghastly, but it doesn't hurt."

As she started wiping away the dried blood, Hawkman cringed. “Well, it didn't until you got ahold of me."

"Keep still. It isn't as bad as I thought."

Hawkman told her of the incident of falling. “I took some pictures of the fermentation taking place in big barrels in that other building. I figure by the end of the week, Jeb will do a run on his goods.” He also told her about Earl coming out about the same time his dad arrived home. “When he pointed the shotgun at the car, Jeb hung his head out the window and shouted obscenities at the lad. If I hadn't been in a predicament, I'd have enjoyed it a lot more."

Jennifer threw the soiled cotton swabs away, rubbed a salve over his face, and handed him the mirror again. “You have one good scratch down your cheek; thank goodness you didn't hit your eye."

He glanced into the glass. “Those little scrapes are nothing. They'll heal in a few days."

She sat down beside her husband. “What do you think Jeb or Earl would do if they caught you snooping around their place?"

"If Jeb plans to run moonshine as his job, then he'd probably kill me and bury my body in the woods where it'd never be found."

Jennifer bit her lower lip. “Wouldn't they realize I'd lead the cops right to them?"

"Mark my word, they'd have an airtight story. Beth would stick to it too, and I'd lay odds she'd no longer be your friend. Remember this is her family."

Jennifer stared at Hawkman. “Do you honestly think he'd go that far?"

"Yes, I have no doubt. He's an ex-con, has no job, and feels desperate. No one is going to get in his way. Right now, he has no idea I've been poking around, and I don't intend for him to find out."

Jennifer placed her hand on his arm. “Have you mentioned this situation to Detective Williams?"

Hawkman shook his head. “He doesn't have any jurisdiction in California, but I do intend to talk to him once I have more solid information. Maybe he can give me some advice."

"The still is there."

"Doesn't mean a thing. Jeb can make whisky for his personal use, as long as he doesn't sell it. I have to catch him in the act."

"How do you plan to follow him?"

"I've got an idea or two roaming around in my head. Not sure which I'll use."

She slid off the bar stool and hugged herself. “This whole mess makes me very nervous."

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Jeb jumped out of Tami's car, stormed up to Earl, and snatched the rifle out of his hands. “I'm putting this gun away for a few days. When you can show me you know how to handle a firearm without putting innocent people at risk, I'll let you have it back."

Earl bowed his head. “I didn't plan to pull the trigger."

"I sure as hell didn't know it. All I could see was a big barrel pointing at me. I've told you many times before, you shout a warning before bringing the gun up to position. Didn't you recognize Tami's car?"

"Not in the dark. I couldn't even tell the color. It surprised me to see headlights coming up here at night. We usually don't have visitors this late."

Jeb walked back to the driver's side. “Thanks for the ride."

"I'll pick you up tomorrow around the same time and we'll set up some dates,” Tami said, with a big smile.

Jeb nodded and stepped away from the car as she backed up and left. He watched her drive away, then turned and strolled toward the second outbuilding. Pulling a key ring from his pocket, he reached for the padlock and realized the door wasn't locked. He turned to Earl. “You been messin’ around in here?"

"No sir."

"How about Randy?"

"I don't think so."

Jeb didn't say any more, checked the rifle to make sure no bullet was in the chamber, leaned it against the side of the building, opened the door and reached for the flashlight he had stored in the corner. He checked the mash, nodded, then stepped out of the building, and made sure he laced the lock through both ends of the chain. He didn't want the kids fiddling around with the fermentation.

Earl had already gone inside. Jeb picked up the rifle and followed. One lantern on the table flickered with enough light so he could see. He picked up the lamp with his free hand and walked by Randy's cot and Marcy's crib. They both appeared to be sleeping. When he got to the bedroom, Beth turned over and stared at him.

"Did Tami throw herself all over you?"

"No,” he said gruffly. “This was a business meeting."

"Right,” she said, rolling over in a huff. Then she sat up, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing with the Earl's shotgun?"

"I took it away from him. He pointed it at the car as we drove up."

"He's only doing what you tell him. I've heard you preach more than once, not to let anyone come on the property he doesn't recognize. So how's he supposed to stop them, other than point his gun?"

"First, shout a warning for them to halt. When they do, you find out who they are and what they want, then tell the folks they're trespassing. If they don't heed your warning, then point the gun. Simple as that."

Beth threw up her hands. “Have you lost your mind. Who's going to listen to a kid?"

Jeb put out the lantern, slid into bed and turned his back to her. “I'm tired. Tami and I have another meeting tomorrow night, plus I've got work to do beforehand. I'm not arguing with you anymore."

Seething with anger, she pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “How many of these so called meetings will there be?"

"I have no idea. Goodnight, Beth."

Monday morning, Beth slipped out of bed before the sun rose. She shrugged into an old, worn, chenille robe she'd had for years and tiptoed into the kitchen. Randy and Marcy were still sleeping, so she moved on to the entry, where she quietly opened the door and stepped outside. The rose-pink light of dawn filled the surroundings and a cool breeze snapped at her neck and bare feet as she made her way to the outbuildings. She knew what the structures contained, and passed up the one with the still. When she reached the second one, she yanked at the chain, and cursed under her breath to find it padlocked. Placing her ear to the wood, she could hear the bubbling of the mash. From the rapid sound of the gurgling, she calculated a few more days for the yeast to stop working. It would probably be the weekend before Jeb took a batch of this putrid stuff to sell.

She turned to go back into the house, and one of the horses in the corral let out a loud whinny. “Oh, shut up you stupid horse,"she mumbled.

She picked up the wood carrier Jennifer had given her, filled it with some kindling and logs stacked outside the door, then carried it back into the cabin. Stoking the big stove, she lit the small branches, and once they caught fire, she closed and latched the lid.

Removing the soft cotton band around her hair, she brushed the locks, then twisted it into a small bun at the nap of her neck, and secured it with a pencil. Her day really began when Marcy stirred.

Monday morning, on his way to the office in Medford, Hawkman thought about whether he should make a trip to the cabin again tonight to check on the mash. Even though he knew little about fermentation, according to what he'd read, the fierce bubbling indicated it would be a few more days before the mixture would be ready for the still.

He also considered talking to Detective Williams on the situation. He knew he wouldn't have any authority over the brewing in California, but he could possibly give him some pointers. Making up his mind, as he hit the outskirts of Medford, he turned on the street which took him to the police station. He parked in one of the visitor slots and went inside. The main area seemed unusually quiet as he strolled down the hallway toward Williams’ office. The door stood open and Hawkman knocked lightly on the door jamb, then peeked around the edge.

"Hey, you son-of-a-gun, where have you been?” Williams said, standing and holding out his hand.

"Working. How are things going with you?” Hawkman said, shaking his friend's hand. “Seems mighty quiet around here."

"We're trying to get ready for when school's out. Then all hell breaks loose."

Hawkman chuckled. “Celebrations of another year gone by?"

"You got it.” The detective looked at him. “You usually don't just pop in here to say ‘hello'. What's up your sleeve?"

"You've got me pegged.” Hawkman said, scooting a seat up to the desk. “What do you know about making moonshine?"

Williams had just lowered himself into his chair, but jerked up his head. “What the hell have you gotten into now!"

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Hawkman waved his hands. “It's not what you think. I've stumbled onto a situation. I'm not sure how to go about solving this mess without hurting a mother and three kids."

"Is this in Oregon or California?” Williams asked.

"California. I know its not in your jurisdiction, but thought maybe you could give me some people to contact."

"How far along are you into this investigation?"

Hawkman spent the next hour telling the story of the Hutchinsons. He emphasized how Jennifer had grown quite fond of Beth, the new baby, and Randy. She didn't like Jeb, nor did she trust the older son, Earl. He told about finding the copper still and the fermenting mash. Then he related the incident Jennifer had meeting Tami, and how they'd seen Jeb and her leaving in a car headed for town. “Briefly, that's the story. I know the law says a man can make whisky for personal use, but the minute he sells it, he gone over the line."

The detective leaned forward. “That's correct in almost every state, but first, you've got to tell Jennifer to back off. This could turn into a very nasty affair. Especially, with an ex-con, and his dad, Jacob, who doesn't like Beth. If you're right, and the old man is financing this operation, no one stands in the way. Not even the spouse, kids or friends."

Hawkman nodded. “I've already tried to talk to Jennifer, but she doesn't want to hear it."

Williams hit his fist against the desk top. “You tell her I said it. If she doesn't believe you, have her call me."

"I'll do that."

"At this time, you don't think he's running it?"

"If he is, it's only to local ranchers. I think this Tami is going to be the connection to get his hooch into the establishments."

The detective scooted a paper pad to the center of his desk, and picked up a pen. “Since I can't help you, I'm going to give you the name of the detective in your area who can handle this.” He ripped off the sheet and handed it to him.

Hawkman took the paper and glanced at it. “Detective Bud Chandler. I've read about him in the newspaper."

"He's a good man. I've worked with his group several times. I'll give him a heads up that you might be calling."

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

Williams leaned back in his chair. “How do you plan to follow this guy, if he delivers a batch in the buckboard?"

"I'm not sure yet. It won't be an easy task."

"Be careful and don't get yourself killed."

"I don't intend to.” He stood. “I've taken enough of your time. Appreciate your help."

"Keep me informed. Very interesting project you've taken on."

"Will do,” Hawkman said, as he left the office, tucking the name of the detective into his pocket.

Jennifer wanted to find out Tami's last name and where she hailed from, but felt she needed an excuse to go to the Hutchinson's place again so soon. She wracked her brain for a good reason and hit on the idea of baking a couple of cherry pies. Doubting Beth had the ingredients to make such a treat, she'd keep one and take the extra to the family. Jennifer busied herself in the kitchen and when the pastries were done, she smiled to herself at how beautiful they'd turned out as she put them on the counter to cool.

When they were warm to the touch, she covered them both with foil, then carefully placed one into a box. She clipped her fanny pack around her waist, carried the pastry to her Ford and placed it on the passenger side floorboard, figuring it would be the safest place as she drove over the rough path to the cabin. As she headed up the road, she wondered how she'd approach the subject of Tami without drawing suspicion.

Approaching the cabin, she thought it strange not seeing Earl with his rifle. When she pulled up to the door, she spotted Jeb coming out of the second outbuilding, and locking the door. She quickly busied herself getting the box out of the Ford so Jeb wouldn't think she'd seen him. Hawkman had told her he'd found the mash fermenting in that structure. She'd love to see it herself, but knew it was out of the question.

Randy answered her knock. “Hi, Mrs.Casey,” he said, eyeing the box.

"Looks like you're doing very well. Not even using your crutches,” Jennifer said.

"I use them when I go outside. Mom doesn't want me to hurt myself."

"It's a good idea. Better to be safe than sorry."

Beth put Marcy into her crib and turned to Jennifer with a smile. “Oh, my, woman, what do you have in your hands?"

"I had the urge to bake, and thought your family might enjoy a treat, too."